Peace Talks
by Foxtrotter44
Summary: "The talks between Ferelden and Orlais took place in Jader, and it... was not easy to keep matters from spiraling out of control." King Alistair, in a bad mood due to recent events and sorely missing his wife, attends negotiations for peace between Ferelden and Orlais, facilitated by the Inquisition. It does not go well. 3-chapter fic.


Disclaimer: I own nothing.

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"Keep that scowl long enough, and your face will freeze like that permanently."

Alistair started, pulled away from his thoughts. "I'm not scowling."

"Really? Because that displeased look on your face certainly isn't a smile."

Alistair sighed, maneuvering in his saddle to fully face Teagan, who regarded Alistair with mild amusement. The sound of hoofbeats and idle chatter stretched on behind the two men as the party rode north through the wood, past Amaranthine and Highever and soon into neighboring Orlais.

He forced a grin, lips curling wide over his teeth. "There. Better?"

Teagan barked out a laugh. "Not at all."

"I didn't think so."

A soldier rode up beside Alistair and Teagan. "Your Majesty," he said, "night approaches. Allow me to scout ahead for a spot to camp for the night."

"Sure. Go ahead."

"Right away, Your Majesty. My Lord," he nodded to Teagan before kicking his horse into a run and heading off.

Alistair took a deep breath, inhaling the fresh northern air; a combination of horses, pine trees, and sea salt, calming his senses. "How much further to Jader?" He asked.

"Not much more than a day's travel, two days at the most," Teagan responded. "You've been quieter than usual these past few days," he added after a moment.

Alistair shrugged. Not much to say to that.

"Normally you'd be chattering away. Talking about inane things, like that great dinner the cook made a week ago or the best parrying technique. Or… you'd be engaged with your men, discussing ale flavor or some such nonsense. Or perhaps you'd be talking to your horse. This silence isn't normal."

"Nothing's 'normal' right now," Alistair snapped.

Teagan raised an eyebrow.

"Sorry," Alistair mumbled, embarrassed by his outburst.

Teagan regarded him more curiously. "What's gotten you so ill-tempered lately?"

"Is that a joke?" Alistair scoffed.

"I meant aside from the obvious."

"If by 'obvious,' you mean how most of the nobility is furious with me for how I handled the mage-templar war, I'm headed into Orlais to meet with… you know, _Orlesians, _I haven't seen my wife in over a year—"

"—I get it, I get it. You haven't had the best time of it lately." Alistair snorted and turned back around to face the road, ignoring Teagan. Compared to most Orlesian cities, the road to Jader wasn't a long one at all, but the journey still felt exhausting. Perhaps the thought of having to engage in a civil manner with people who thought him little more than a glorified barbarian was what was making Alistair feel so much more tense than usual. These peace talks, however, were a necessary evil, if Alistair wanted to ensure Ferelden's safety from Orlais and win back the favor of the nobility.

As to his sense of impending doom, well, Alistair would just have to deal.

They rode on in silence for a few minutes longer, Alistair absentmindedly patting his horse's neck. A beautiful purebred Amaranthine Charger with a coat the color of a fresh snowfall, the horse had been a twenty-sixth birthday gift from his wife. For her birthday later that same year, Alistair gifted Elissa a mare of the same lineage as his own horse, black as midnight. _Now we__'__re matching_, he'd joked, his queen humming her agreement as he'd pulled her into a playful kiss.

Alistair turned back to Teagan, his thoughts now focused on his missing love. "If Elissa were here… I'd be much less nervous than I am. She's much better at this sort of thing than me."

Teagan snorted. "No she's not. You're much better off attending these talks without her."

"What? How could you say—"

"Alistair, that woman does not have a single diplomatic bone in her body. Believe me when I say dealing with Orlesians requires a subtlety she does not possess. If Elissa came with us, that temper of hers would inevitably flare, and I would get the unfortunate privilege of having to explain to the empress why the Queen of Ferelden pulled a sword on a duke for looking at her the wrong way."

"I think that's a bit of an exaggeration."

"Maybe, but I would rather not test it."

Alistair sighed; of course Teagan was right. Putting his fiercely Fereldan warrior queen in a room full of frilly Orlesians was a decidedly bad idea. Not that Alistair would be much better.

"At least she'd be there to suffer through it with me."

Thoughts of his wife consumed and clouded Alistair's mind more every single day she was gone. _It__'__s a good lead, _she'd pleaded, trying to convince Alistair to let her go, _the best I__'__ve had. I have to follow it. _He had begged her not to leave, then tried commanding her to stay. _It__'__s dangerous, _he'd argued. _You don__'__t need to do this. _But she did need to do it, and Alistair knew that—which was why he eventually let her go, not that he could have stopped her. He wasn't oblivious to the way she sometimes acted moody and sullen for no clear reason, or how nightmares still sometimes plagued her, even all these years later. Not just nightmares of the darkspawn… but of the night of her family's massacre as well. Curing the taint would not only rid them both of the rot in their blood, but perhaps help her vanquish her demons once and for all.

_And when I cure this, _not 'if,' Andraste bless that stubborn, stubborn woman, but 'when,' _maybe__… __maybe we__'__ll finally be able to have a family of our own. _And that longing, uncharacteristically timid statement was what had finally broken Alistair. He knew how badly Elissa wanted a child, Maker's breath, he knew how badly _he _wanted a child. The courtly gossip worsened with every year that passed without a royal heir. It was painful enough to want to have children and be unable to do so, never mind the nasty women who called her barren or Alistair's advisors beginning to suggest he make _alternate arrangements._

So he'd given her his blessing and seen her off. _I won__'__t be gone long, _Elissa had promised. _A year at the most. _The year had passed a little over a month earlier than the trip to Jader, and there was no sign of her coming home anytime soon. In the first several months, she'd written often, albeit with less and less frequency as time wore on. Alistair hadn't received a letter from her in four months. He hoped—prayed—it was because she was deep on the trail and not because of the much darker possibility Alistair refused to consider. Whatever the case, he worried for her constantly.

The soldier Alistair had sent to scout for a camp spot was returning as the distant sky began to shine the brilliant orange and pink of the encroaching evening.

"You shouldn't have too bad of a time. Celene is a sensible woman, and it's in Orlais' best interest to remain at peace with Ferelden. The Inquisition's people will make sure the talks go off smoothly," Teagan reassured.

"Maybe. I just hope this whole thing goes by quickly. I can only handle Orlesians for so long before I feel like I need a bowl of Fereldan stew and a bath in Mabari drool to get rid of the stench. You know, their… perfumes and such."

"On that we can agree," Teagan wryly responded. Before long, the party made camp for the night, and Alistair prepared himself for the inevitable doom he would be facing in the days to come.

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chapter 2 coming soon!


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